


Fun in the Sun.

by darkavengerz (darkavenger)



Category: Marvel
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-15 22:57:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2246454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkavenger/pseuds/darkavengerz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Originally posted on Tumblr for the Spideypool Secret Santa for the lovely icarusforgotten.</p><p>Peter wants a holiday. Wade needs convincing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fun in the Sun.

"C’mon Wade,” Peter pleads, pulling his most pathetic, puppy-dog face.

“Uh uh. No way, baby boy, not even for you.” Wade stares resolutely at the ceiling, looking anywhere but at his begging boyfriend, laid naked in their bed, because Wade’s only human damn it, even if he has got super powers, and Peter is like his kryptonite. His sexy, sexy kryptonite, who doesn’t play fair and is more than happy to use his sexual wiles to get what he wants.

“It’ll be fun. Sun, surf, sea…” Peter continues, trailing off suggestively.

“Sex?” Wade sneaks a quick glance at Peter.

“Sure. We can rent a nice hotel.” Peter smirks, like he thinks he’s won, that cocky little bastard, like he thinks Wade’s been snared in his evil spider’s web of sexual bribery and emotional coercion.

“Or we could just stay at home and have sex?” Wade squeezes his eyes shut. Don’t look, don’t look, he chants to himself silently. He can’t get you if you can’t see that rockin’ bod and messy hair and  _fuck_. Wade was so screwed.

“We could, but we do that every day, Wade.” The bedsprings creak as Peter shifts closer, and Wade can feel the warmth of his naked body pressing against his side as Peter curls around him, head pillowed on Wade’s shoulder, one arm wrapped around Wade’s chest. Wade whimpers silently, because there is only so much a man can stand and this is a full scale onslaught. “Just think, I’ll be wearing nothing but swimming trunks, and I’ll need you to rub sun cream on me so I don’t burn.”

“I’m not wearin’ trunks,” Wade says forcefully, tensing.

“Fine,” Peter says quickly, and Wade tries to pretend he doesn’t hear the sadness and disappointment contained in that one word. Huffing, he tugs the cover up a little more, rolling onto his side and dislodging Peter’s arm. Self-loathing washes over him as he tries to picture him and Peter on a beach. In his mind, Peter looks hotter than ever, all rippling muscles on a slim, acrobatic body and doofy hair and a sweet smile. Then there’s him, beside Peter, like Beauty and the friggin’ Beast, scars and sores on full display in the sun. He shudders, drawing the cover over his head, retreating into the darkness to which he belongs.

“You don’t have to wear anything you don’t want, you can bring the costume,” Peter says quietly, shifting so he’s draped comfortingly over Wade’s back, voice muffled as he buries his head between Wade’s shoulder blades. “Please, Wade. I just want to get away and actually spend some time with you.”

“What d’ya call this?” Wade grumbles.

“It’s not enough, okay?” Peter says, forcefully, desperately. “I’m always exhausted from patrol, you’re always exhausted too, most of the time we’re too tired to do more than just fuck and fall asleep. Don’t get me wrong, I like that - fuck, I love that, but I want more. I want to spend time together somewhere we’re both not constantly waiting to be called away, where we can just be selfish for once, okay?”

“Speak for yourself,” Wade protests weakly, “I’m selfish all the time.”

“That’s not true,” Peter says, with that tone of quiet conviction that always stuns Wade, knocks him right on his ass, because somehow he’s managed to con someone who finds emzymes and nucleotides and whatever  _fascinating_  into thinking Wade is more than the piece of human garbage he knows himself to be. Hell, it’s not like other people don’t know it too. Deadpool came into being when Wade Wilson was tossed out with the trash, and that’s the pattern his life has followed ever since. Yeah, there’ve been times he’s managed to pull the wool over people’s eyes for a while, but he’s always caught out in the end, and discarded.

Sighing, he gives in and tugs Peter’s arm back around him. “Fine. Only for you, baby boy, and I get to check out the half-naked babes.”

“Sure,” Peter says, sounding all choked up and happy, like Wade’s actually doing him a friggin’ favour by agreeing to go on holiday with him, and not for the first time Wade wonders if Peter’s actually the crazy one, just his crazy is the type that makes him randy for messed-up merc’s with worse skin than Freddy Kreuger rather than the type that occasionally makes someone kill people and play with their entrails.

Peter presses a kiss against Wade’s back, and Wade shivers, twisting round in Peter’s arms until he’s facing the other man. Peter’s eyes are half-lidded with sleep; dark bags underneath them, and Wade is glad he agreed to this holiday, because Peter looks like he needs it. “Looking kinda peaky, Petey? Forgot to take your vitamins recently?”

Peter scowls, nose scrunching up cutely, “Have you been talking to Aunt May again? I swear, you tell her again how much pizza we eat, and I’m gonna ban you from seeing her.”

“You can’t stop me,” Wade informs Peter smugly. “The old biddy loves me, goes gaga over me. You may not like it, but our love is real, Petey.”

“Stop,” Peter groans, kicking Wade in the ankle half-heartedly. “I don’t care if you’re joking, don’t pretend to have a thing for my pensioner aunt.”

“How you going to stop me?” Wade asks, smirking. “And who says I’m pretending? I have a thing for older women, blame it on my mommy issues.”

“If you don’t stop, I’ll tell her you call her an ‘old biddy’ and an ‘old bag’ behind her back, and she’ll stop making you meatloaf,” Peter grins, grabbing Wade’s wrists to hold him back as he tries to jerk upright at the threat.

“You wouldn’t! You cunning fiend, Petey, I am shocked, honestly,” Wade can’t help but be kinda charmed by this ruthless ploy, because it’s always a pleasant surprise to realise Peter isn’t sugar and spice and all things nice all the time.

“I can’t believe you actually like her meatloaf,” Peter says, making a face, “I seriously just thought you were just being diplomatic, but then I remembered it’s  _you_  we’re talking about.”

“I resemble that implication,” Wade says automatically, then experimentally tries to pull his wrists free of Peter’s hold. Peter just smirks, eyes narrowing as he restrains Wade with ease.  Huffing, Wade gives up, relaxing back onto the pillows, asking lazily, “So what exactly do people do at the beach?”

Peter snorts, moving so he’s knelt beside Wade, never releasing his hold on Wade’s wrists. Wade watches with interest, quiet and pliable only because he’s interested to see where this goes. “You can’t expect me to believe you’ve never been to the beach before, Wade.”

“Sure I’ve been to the beach,” Wade snorts, “just not sure if you and me’d enjoy the same activities.”

“Why, what do you do at the beach?” Peter asks, with the tone of reluctant fascination that he gets a lot when talking to Wade.

“Check out the hot chicks, poke jellyfish with sticks, go fight with sharks, get bits eaten by sharks, wash up on the beach and lie around ‘til I come round again, go get drinks at the nearest bar. Ooo, one time, this whale washed up on the beach, and I poked  _that_ with a stick. Did you know those things explode after they die?”

“Oh god,” Peter says, looking vaguely nauseous.

“Tell me about it,” Wade agrees, “chunks of blubber everywhere, took me months to wash that spermaceti out of my suit. And that’s not to mention the smell…”

“There will be no poking of anything dead,” Peter said firmly, moving to straddle Wade.

“Spoilsport,” Wade grumbles, hands twitching with the need to touch, but Peter’s still got a grip on them. He whines petulantly, arching his back in an attempt to knock Peter off-balance.

“Hey, I know how to have fun,” Peter protests, leaning down to kiss Wade. That shuts Wade up. The kiss is slow and filthy-hot, Peter deepening the kiss as Wade’s mouth falls open in a gasp that turns into a groan of frustration as he realises Peter’s still got his hands pinned up by the pillows. He feels Peter’s smile against his lips, and nips at it with his teeth.

Peter pulls back, laughing, “See?”

“Yeah yeah, fine, point proven or whatever,” Wade says quickly, “now how’s about we get back to making out?”

“I thought we were discussing what we were going to do on holiday?” Peter says, and Wade groans, flinging his head back violently on the pillow.

“Petey, sweetie. Darling, sugarlips,” he grates out, eyes squeezed shut, “you’re killing me here. I thought that was against your moral code or some shit.”

Peter laughs and releases Wade’s wrists. Finally, the merc thinks, hands flying to grope Peter’s butt, before running lightly up the slighter man’s sides. He’s gotten scrawny, Wade thinks with guilty alarm. Peter’s always been slim, built like a gymnast, but this is more than that. Wade can feel his ribs under his palms, and it makes him seem fragile, breakable boy with brittle bones, even though Wade knows that’s not true. Peter’s been run ragged recently, coming in later than ever, collapsing into bed only to get up a few short hours later, spreading himself too thin between work, more work and Wade.  _I’m sorry_ , Wade thinks, pressing a kiss against Peter’s neck.

“I was thinking we could go scuba-diving or something like that,” Peter says softly, leaning down so his arms bracket Wade’s head and his breath brushes Wade’s lips as he speaks. “Something to burn off that energy of yours, otherwise you’ll end up awakening the kraken for fun.”

“Do you know how we could do that?” Wade asks, distracted, then shudders. “Actually, scrap that. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen porn that starts that way. Too many tentacles, you know what I’m saying? And he seems kinda handsy.”

Peter chuckles, “I thought that’d be right up your alley?”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” Wade says darkly.

“Okay, no summoning dark and terrible creatures from the depths of the ocean,” Peter agrees. “I don’t know… It might be cheesy, but I just want to read a book on the beach, get drunk at a bar, maybe sing some karaoke in a place where it’s guaranteed I’m not going to run into anyone there ever again, go for a donkey ride on the beach…”

“Is the last one anything like a donkey show?”

“Wade…” Peter groans, letting his forehead thump against Wade’s.

“Hey, it’s cool! I get it, you want to ride some ass. Nothing wrong with that.”

“Wade, shut up.”

“Never – mmph!”

Wade shuts up because Peter’s kissing him, which makes speaking difficult. Not that he hasn’t tried before, but only because he really felt the need to keep up a running commentary on how  _good_  it was. And it is good. Peter’s mouth is soft and wet, and he’s grinding against Wade in an area which is quite definitely not soft (or wet, yet), and this feels pretty damn great as it is, but Wade wants more, so he spreads his legs with wanton ease and breaks away from kissing Peter to say, huskily, “Babe, are you going to actually fuck me at any point, or are we going to keep dry-humping like a couple of high-schoolers?”

“You have the most romantic turns of phrase,” Peter grumbles.

“C’mon, baby,” Wade says, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Stick it in me.”

Peter rolls his eyes, sitting back between Wade’s spread legs. “Fine. But I’m not going to ‘stick it in you’ as you so eloquently put it, without lube.”

“Or we could skip the foreplay and get right to the good stuff,” Wade suggests hopefully, although without any real hope.

“Using lube isn’t foreplay, Wade,” Peter says, despairingly.

“Ugh, you’re such a  _gentleman_ ,” Wade says, sneering as he says the word, but he’s fumbling in the bedside drawer as he speaks. “What are healing factors for if not spontaneous anal sex?” He finds a packet and tosses it to Peter.

Peter rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling as he rips open the packet. “I love you,” he says fondly.

“Yeah, yeah, enough , enough with the mushy crap,” Wade says hastily, turning red. “Just make sure you warm up that stuff before it comes in contact with little Wade.”

Peter smirks, and Wade gasps embarrassingly loudly as Peter begins to press a finger inside him (and that dick  _didn’t_  warm the lube first), other hand on Wade’s dick, slowly, almost lazily jerking him off. “You don’t have to say it back, I know you love me too.”

“Don’t bet on it,” Wade says, or tries to say, the words get a little garbled coming out. He squeezes his eyes shut, hands scrabbling in the bed sheets as he avoids looking at Peter, that cocky bastard, as he presses another finger teasingly slowly inside. “ _Fuck me_.”

“Planning on it,” Peter says, sounding amused but a little breathless, and Wade can’t resist looking as Peter removes his fingers and begins to push something thicker and longer inside Wade. Peter’s cheeks are flushed, pupils dilated, but there’s something so tender in his expression that Wade wants to squirm, feels more exposed by his gaze than Peter’s dick pushing inside him. There’s a faint burn, but the pain is nothing to someone always in a low-level amount of constant pain, and it’s washed out by pleasure soon enough.

Wade’s hands tangle in Peter’s hair, Peter’s teeth are sharp against Wade’s skin.  Peter thrusts in deeper and Wade says (because his mouth is a traitor and embarrassingly soppy when he’s getting fucked), “I love you, fuck, I love you, I love  _that_ , I love you…“


End file.
